


Food For Two

by silver_etoile



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, delivery!boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26494906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: Delivery Boy isn't the most glamorous job ever, but when a customer requests the "cute delivery boy," Martino finds out it has its perks.
Relationships: Niccolò Fares/Martino Rametta
Comments: 11
Kudos: 87





	Food For Two

“That’s a foul!” Elia called as the football flew past him and bounced off the building wall.

“Only a foul if you’re a loser,” Martino replied, wiping sweat off his brow, picking Luchino off the ground where he was nursing his ankle.

Elia shook his head as he retrieved the ball. “You’re a shitty player if you can only win by cheating.”

Martino ignored him, rolling his eyes, smacking dirt off Luca’s back. He was a perfectly fine football player. It wasn’t like he was trying to go professional. If he was, he certainly wouldn’t be practicing in a dirty courtyard with two other people who could hardly be considered good either.

“Tell that to the pros,” he said instead, glancing down as his phone chimed, followed closely by Elia and Luca’s phones.

“A job,” Elia said as he pulled out his phone, and Martino did the same, pulling up the Deliveroo app and reading the notification.

“Groceries,” Luca added, scrolling through his phone. “Who wants to take it?”

Scanning the request, Martino’s gaze fell to the bottom, the note under Additional Information.

_Send the cute delivery boy, please._

Elia seemed to have noticed too because he preened as he looked up.

“Clearly they want me.”

Martino rolled his eyes, and Luca frowned.

“How do you know it’s not me?”

“No offense, Luchi,” Elia said, slinging an arm over his shoulder, brushing remnants of dirt off his shirt, “but I’m obviously the hottest of us three.”

“You’re just lucky Gio got a job at that bar,” Martino retorted, hands on his hips, smirking as Elia scoffed.

“Please. Anyone would choose me over Gio. I can’t deny this person my good looks when they’ve specifically requested.”

The app chimed again, a reminder to pick up the job, and Martino sighed as Elia and Luca continued to bicker over who was hotter.

“It’s everything, Luchi,” Elia was saying, gesturing at himself. “The hair, the earring. It’s the whole package.”

“But it said, ‘cute.’ I’m cute!” Luca insisted, and Martino refrained from hitting himself in the face as he stepped up between them.

“I’m taking it,” he said, very obviously hitting accept as Elia and Luca stared.

“Hey!”

“Someone’s gotta get the groceries,” Martino said, shaking his head. “It’s probably some horny uni girl who won’t know the difference between us anyway.”

Elia scowled. “Which is completely lost on you. You’re not even into girls.”

“So I won’t make an idiot of myself hitting on some poor customer,” Martino pointed out as Elia rolled his eyes. “I have to go.”

“I get the next one!” Elia called after him as Martino left the courtyard and pulled up the details of the order. There’d be plenty of opportunities for Elia to make a fool of himself with customers, but for now, Martino needed the money, so he set off for the store.

*

Delivery boy wasn’t exactly the coolest job Martino could have gotten, but it was flexible and easy, and he could do it when he had downtime between University classes. It also meant he’d gotten to know the neighborhoods around school very well.

As he looked up at the building, it seemed familiar. They all seemed familiar nowadays, though, and Martino shrugged to himself as he grabbed the grocery bags off the back of his vespa. Up the stairs, he lugged the bags, checking his phone as he searched for the right apartment.

At the door, he stopped, juggling the bags to knock on the door as he pulled up the request on his phone. The door creaked open a second later and Martino squinted at his phone.

“Are you… Niccolò?”

“Good,” came a smooth, deep voice, and Martino’s eyes slid from his phone to the doorway. “They sent the cute delivery boy.”

Martino wouldn’t have called himself cute, especially not compared to the guy leaning against the door frame, a charming slant to his smile, chiseled jaw line, dark curls tumbling over his forehead, and Martino felt the heat in his cheeks as he stood there stupidly, mouth open but no words coming out.

“Here, let me help,” Nico said, reaching for the bags in Martino’s arms, and Martino didn’t stop him.

Shaking himself, Martino forced himself to follow Nico inside the apartment, setting the other bags on the kitchen table. It wasn’t as if he didn’t run into hot guys on other deliveries. They just usually didn’t smile at Martino like that, or call him cute, or offer to help with the bags.

Glancing around the apartment, Martino couldn’t help but notice how old-fashioned it seemed. The brown couch was worn and soft, hoodies hanging off the back, heavy wooden furniture scattered around the living room, the surface of the kitchen table smooth and worn as Nico checked through the bags. As Martino caught sight of the flowery white curtains hanging over the windows, something clicked as he stood there.

“Pineapple pizza,” he said slowly, and Nico turned to him, eyebrows furrowed, but he smiled after a second.

“You remembered.”

Martino didn’t know how he could have forgotten someone as beautiful as Nico, but he’d been so wrapped up in the disgust that someone would actually put pineapple on a pizza, by the girl who had seized it out of his hands the minute he knocked on the door, by how the apartment had smelled like perfume, the curtains billowing in the open windows behind Nico.

There was no girl this time, and the perfume smell seemed to have faded.

“Who could forget pineapple on pizza?” Martino heard himself say. “That’s disgusting.”

Nico laughed, eyes crinkling, and Martino’s stomach swooped dangerously. So much for being better than Elia when it came to being attracted to customers.

“Good to know my delivery people actually do judge my choices.”

Martino blinked, feeling stupid as Nico grinned at him. “No, No, I—” he said quickly, but there was no way out of this one.

Luckily, Nico didn’t seem to mind, biting his lower lip as he watched Martino flounder for words. He definitely had judged Nico and his pineapple pizza.

“I hope you didn’t look in these bags because I don’t think you’d like what you saw,” Nico said, and Martino cursed to himself. He didn’t even know Nico and he’d screwed things up already.

“I-I didn’t,” he said quickly, relieved when his phone chimed with a new notification. Pulling it out, he barely scanned the delivery request before hitting accept. “Sorry, I have to go. Another delivery.”

“Oh, sure,” Nico said, leading the way back to the front door. He smiled at Martino again as they paused in the doorway. “Thanks for groceries.”

“Yeah,” Martino said, “no problem.”

He didn’t hear the door shut until he was halfway down the hall, and Martino sighed to himself. How could he be such an idiot?

Outside, his phone chimed as he grabbed his helmet off the scooter.

_Niccolò has sent you a tip!_

Pulling it up, Martino blinked at the amount on the screen, eyes sliding to the note underneath.

_Sorry if I freaked you out with the cute thing._

Standing there, Martino couldn’t help glancing back at the building. Nico probably thought he was some asshole straight guy with the way he’d reacted, barely able to talk, insulting his pizza choices.

Annoyed, Martino huffed as he pulled on his helmet. He should have let Elia take the job.

*

Martino glanced up as Gio slid another bottle under his nose and plopped into the empty chair, shaking his head at Luca on the dance floor, trying to flirt with some blond girl.

“One thing about Luchino; he never gives up,” Gio said, and Martino couldn’t help watching as the girl purposefully turned away from Luca and Luca kept on dancing.

Martino couldn’t make out what song was playing over the conversations in the bar, clinking of bottles, guffawed laughs from a far corner. Their table was slightly sticky, and Martino pulled the beer off of it with a face.

“And yet he still doesn’t get any girls,” Elia said from across the table, taking a swig of his beer.

“Like you’re one to talk.” Gio laughed, ducking as Elia pitched the bottle cap at him.

“I get hit on constantly,” he assured them both. “I bring girls alcohol and chocolate and flowers. They love me.”

“They love that it came,” Gio pointed out, and Martino frowned at his bottle. “They don’t care who brings it.”

“That’s not true,” Elia argued, elbowing Martino sharply. Sitting up, Martino blinked slowly. He knew he should have been listening, but his mind was stuck on Niccolò, on the apology note, on the way his smile lit up his whole face, deep brown eyes sparkling like a romance novel love-interest. “Somebody requested the hot delivery guy just today. Who was it, Marti? Some gorgeous girl who wanted to eat you alive?”

“It was a guy,” he said slowly, watching Elia’s eyebrows rise in surprise but then furrow.

“Wait, like a creepy guy?”

“No.” Martino shook his head, twisting the cold bottle in his fingers. “He was our age. I guess I delivered to him before but I didn’t remember.”

Martino didn’t miss the look Gio and Elia exchanged, frowning between them.

“What?”

“What’d you do?” Gio asked, and Martino shrugged.

“What do you mean? I delivered the groceries.”

He’d also insulted Nico’s pizza preferences and probably came off like a weird homophobic asshole. He’d just been caught off-guard that someone as beautiful as Nico would think he was cute, would even remember him from weeks ago—they hadn’t even spoken that first time. The girl had taken the pizza with a brief, “Thanks!” before the door shut in his face.

Gio paused, looking at Elia again. Martino really hated it when they did that, as if agreeing on something about himself, something he wasn’t a part of.

“Well, was he, you know, good-looking?”

Scoffing, Martino sat back in his chair. “What does that matter?”

Elia leaned forward, fixing Martino with a look as though he was a complete idiot. “Why did we take these jobs?”

“To make money,” Martino reminded him, annoyed. He’d taken it because he couldn’t keep living off cheap noodles and whatever food he could get from his mom’s kitchen.

Elia shook his head, rolling his eyes. “To hook up with hot people at their apartments.”

Scowling, Martino set his beer down with a clunk on the table. “They’re not ordering _us_.”

“That guy did.”

Martino wanted to scoff, but he could feel his cheeks heating up as he remembered the way Nico had smiled at him, invited him in, grabbed the bags out of his hands. And all he’d done was stand there like an idiot.

“So, what? I was supposed to just say, wanna hook up in your living room while the ice cream melts in the bags?” he snapped. He’d never been very good at casual hook-ups, and he especially didn’t think he’d be good at it with someone he’d only known for two seconds during a delivery.

Elia snorted with laughter. “I’d pay to hear you say that to someone.”

Gio reacted a bit nicer, patting Martino’s shoulder reassuringly. “Sometimes an opportunity comes along and you gotta take it.”

Frowning, Martino didn’t reply. It hadn’t been much of an opportunity, and he’d definitely ruined it if it had been. Hook ups might have been why Elia was delivering, but Martino had never been much interested in random sex with strangers. That was probably the cause of the look Gio was giving Elia this time. They both thought he just needed to get laid.

“It’s not gonna happen,” he muttered finally, grabbing his beer and taking a long swig. Nico thought he’d freaked him out. Nico thought he was a judgmental asshole.

“Well,” Gio said after a second, glancing out at the dance floor, “sometimes persistence pays off.”

Martino only frowned as he watched Luca now dancing with the blond girl, hands on her waist, a ridiculous grin on his face. Even if he saw Nico again, he didn’t plan on proposing a hook-up. That wasn’t why he’d taken the job.

*

Turning his phone off silent, Martino trailed behind the rest of the students filing out of the lecture hall. He had an hour until his next class, an hour to waste either in the library not really studying or else hanging outside somewhere, but the sky was overcast as he emerged from the building, a heavy mist pressing in around him as he zipped up his hoodie.

Or he could make a little money, he decided, opening the delivery app and signing in. A notification popped up almost immediately, a delivery request from the sushi place around the corner. It wasn’t the proximity that caught Martino’s eye but the name on the order; Niccolò Fares.

Martino’s heart thudded once, loudly, as he read the name. Fuck.

He didn’t know why it made him nervous as his thumb hovered over the claim button. He’d get to see Nico again, maybe make it clear that he was definitely into guys and Nico hadn’t freaked him out before.

They wouldn’t hook up on his old, flowery couch, though, Martino told himself firmly as he claimed the delivery.

Still, he couldn’t help the way his heart pounded as he picked up the order and headed for Nico’s apartment.

It was stupid, he told himself. Nico was just a guy he’d talked to for a few minutes. A very good-looking guy who’d called Martino cute.

Shaking the thought from his head, Martino drew himself together before knocking on the door.

It opened a minute later and Nico stood there, not looking particularly surprised to see Martino, a careful smile on his face.

“Hey,” he greeted him, and right, Martino remembered. The app told the customer who was doing the delivery. Nico had known it would be him.

“Hi,” he replied, standing awkwardly for a minute as Nico watched him, distracted by Nico’s bare feet on the wood floor, jeans puddling around his heels, the shirt that was probably a size too big on his frame, the way Nico tilted his head to the side curiously, before remembering why he was there. “Here’s your food.”

Holding out the bag, Martino grimaced to himself as Nico took it. He should say something else, something that wasn’t a comment on how much sushi Nico had ordered or that his hair looked particularly good today, a mess of perfectly spiraled curls over his ears.

“You didn’t freak me out,” he blurted out as Nico stepped back from the door, hand on the edge to close it. As Nico paused, Martino cursed to himself. “Last time. I just was surprised.”

Nico didn’t reply for a second, biting his lower lip, hand resting against the door. “Are you hungry?” he asked, surprising Martino again. “I always order way too much.”

Martino checked the time, mostly to give himself a second to think. Nico was inviting him to stay, and he still had time before his next class. “Are you going to give me five stars?”

Nico grinned, opening the door wider. “That’s a given.”

Martino couldn’t help smiling this time as he stepped over the threshold and the door shut behind him.

*

“Do you invite all your delivery guys in for sushi?” Martino asked, ripping open a packet of soy sauce while Nico plucked at what might have been octopus. Martino was sticking to the ones he recognized.

Food was spread over the coffee table—Nico had been right. He definitely ordered too much. Martino wasn’t even sure they could eat it all between the two of them.

Nico smiled at the question, cracking off the top of a beer and handing it to Martino next to him. “Just the ones I send running.”

“You didn’t send me running.” Martino rolled his eyes, chancing a quick glance at Nico. He didn’t know anyone who would run from someone who looked like Nico, like a model fallen out of the sky and landed in a grandmother’s apartment.

“Clearly,” Nico said with a nod, and Martino scoffed, shoving a piece of fish in his mouth.

This wasn’t how he’d expected the afternoon to go, sitting on Nico’s couch, the pillows sunken and smushed behind him, watching Nico take a drink of his beer, wondering exactly why Nico had invited him to stay.

He knew what Elia would say— _“He wants to hook up!”_

If Nico wanted to hook up, he probably would have done something more than offer Martino a plate and suggest they eat in the living room.

“Do you always order this much food?” he asked and Nico laughed.

“I’ve been told by several people that my cooking tastes like shit, so I figure it’s better to order out than poison myself.”

Martino smiled at that. He supposed he would order out a lot more if he didn’t know how to cook either.

“Do you live here by yourself, or…?” he asked instead, grabbing another piece of fish, eyes falling on some old photographs on the walls, of a woman and a couple kids.

Nico shook his head, swallowing the food in his mouth. “It was my grandma’s place. She passed away last year and my parents said I could move in. I guess I haven’t really had the heart to redecorate quite yet.”

“It’s, uh, it’s quaint,” Martino said, looking back at Nico to find him grinning.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, and Martino scoffed.

“I was trying to be nice.”

“Well, don’t,” Nico said, shaking his head. “I’d rather you be honest.”

Sitting back, Martino paused for a second. Most people told him he was too honest, too blunt. “Okay. It looks like someone had an obsession with brown flowers. I didn’t even know they made this many things in brown.”

Nico laughed, and Martino felt something warm drop into his stomach. “It is a lot of brown, I’ll give you that. I was thinking of painting the walls maybe light green, make it brighter in here.”

“That could work,” Martino agreed, as if he knew anything about design. His room at home had been the same since he turned thirteen and convinced his mom to let him paint it blue.

“Or maybe I could do something cool on that wall.” Nico nodded at the one behind the TV, in between the windows. “Like a mural or an art piece or something.”

“Is that what you do?” Martino asked. The apartment didn’t really give any clues about Nico himself, and his clothes were fairly ordinary as far as style went. Not that he had any room to talk about style. He’d been wearing the same blue button-down for the past three years.

Nico shrugged, picking up another piece of sushi with the chopsticks. “I have lots of hobbies. I get bored easily.” He glanced at Martino. “I like anything creative, really. I guess that’s why I’m studying music.”

“I tried to learn guitar once,” Martino offered with a shrug. “Lasted about two days before I gave up.”

Smiling, Nico glanced at him. “I could try to teach you something.”

Martino shook his head quickly. “No, no. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll stick to things I can actually understand. Like math.”

“Math.” Nico made a face, and Martino had to smile. “You can keep that.” He paused, gaze lingering on Martino, and Martino felt a unfamiliar flutter in his stomach, one he hadn’t felt in a while. “You go to Sapienza?”

“Yeah.” Martino nodded easily, and Nico echoed it.

“Me too.”

For a moment, they didn’t speak as they ate, and Martino found himself watching Nico more than anything. It was comfortable here, sunk into the couch, smiling at the way Nico tilted his head as he almost dropped a piece of sushi, wiping a drip of soy sauce off his chin and grinning when he caught Martino’s eyes.

“Don’t make fun of me. I usually don’t eat with an audience.”

“I’m not watching,” Martino lied, knowing Nico didn’t believe him by the look he shot him, amused, eyebrows high. “Don’t you eat with other people?”

Nico shrugged. “Sure, but I usually try not to get soy sauce all over my face.”

“It’s a good look,” Martino said, and Nico laughed, eyes crinkling again in that way that made Martino’s stomach freefall.

“I thought I told you to be honest?”

He paused, catching Nico’s gaze, unable to stop himself from smiling, almost embarrassed as he said, “Maybe I was,” and Nico’s smile widened as they sat in the cozy brown apartment, and Martino reached for another salmon skin roll.

*

The music building was on the other side of campus. Not that Martino had ever been over there or even really thought about it until now as he walked with Gio toward the library.

He wondered if Nico was inside, learning all about composition and music theory, and all those things Martino didn’t understand. He wondered if Nico was thinking about him, thinking about the other day when Martino had gotten so distracted by Nico’s smile, the way he teased Martino about his inability to use chopsticks, that he’d missed half his class.

Nico was like a little ball of sun, Martino thought, kicking a leaf off the pavement, not really listening to whatever Gio was talking about beside him. His smile made Martino feel stupidly warm inside, safe, like he could tell Nico anything and Nico would just listen.

That wasn’t something he planned on telling the boys, not even Gio. They would just make fun, call him a _romantic_ , as if that was such a terrible thing.

“Eva wants to go to some party on Friday,” Gio said, and Martino shook himself out of his thoughts as they reached the door to the library.

“Did she actually ask you to go with her, or are you just trying to get me to go so you’ll have an excuse?” he asked, glancing at Gio beside him.

“I don’t need excuses to see Eva,” Gio scoffed, shaking Martino’s shoulder, and Martino arched a skeptical eyebrow. He wasn’t the only one his friends could accuse of being romantic. Despite the fact that Gio and Eva had been broken up for almost two years, they still hadn’t managed to figure out the ‘just friends’ part of their relationship. Martino was pretty sure it was because neither of them wanted that.

“Then why are you telling me about some party she wants to go to?”

Gio shrugged as they climbed the stairs, looking for an empty table among the long rows of books. “Because it’s good for you to get out,” he said simply. “Drink with people other than me and Elia and Luchino.”

“I get out,” Martino said simply. That wasn’t why Gio wanted him to come.

“Delivering shit doesn’t count,” Gio said, tugging Martino over to a table and dumping his bag beside the chair. “It could be fun. Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

Martino rolled his eyes, pulling a textbook from his bag. “I’m perfectly fine being single.”

Gio shot Martino with a skeptical look. “I’m not saying you need to sleep with the first guy who smiles at you, but I am saying you don’t have to wait for the right person to come along before having some fun.”

Martino shook his head. “I’m not waiting for anyone. I dated Emilio all summer. Remember?”

“Yeah,” Gio allowed slowly. “So maybe it’s time to get back out there.”

Martino knew this wasn’t about his lack of prospects or Gio’s concern that he needed to get laid. It was more about an excuse to go to whatever party Eva would be at, some casual excuse to explain why he showed up without her inviting him. Martino wished they would stop whatever weird dance this was and just back together already. It had been almost two years.

“Just say you want me to come so Eva doesn’t think it’s weird, you showing up,” he said, blunt, dropping a pen on his book and shooting Gio a knowing look. 

Gio sighed. “You’re a dick sometimes, you know?” Martino only shrugged. “Fine, just come with me. And if some hot guy hits on you, feel free to make out in the bathroom.”

Martino was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen. There was only one hot guy he was thinking of as Gio pulled out his books to study, and the idea of making out with Nico in a bathroom was just something he couldn’t think about when he was supposed to be studying. So he shook the thought away and tried to focus on his Chemistry homework instead.

*

Edging past the couple making out by the doorway, Martino held his drink up so it wouldn’t spill. He’d lost Gio in the throng of people filling the club. It really just meant Martino had to try not to look awkward and alone as he wandered through the party.

He wasn’t great at not looking awkward and alone at the best of times, so Martino finished what was left of his beer and headed for the bar instead.

“Let me guess.” A voice in his ear made Martino jump, turning to a familiar smile, tousled black curls, crinkled eyes that made Martino’s heart flutter stupidly. “You delivered the beer.”

“Hey,” Martino said instead of replying, surprised to see Nico, a smile spreading over his face as Niccolò slid up to the bar beside him. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a party.” Nico shrugged, glancing around. 

That it was. Some weird, loud music was playing on the speakers, but people were dancing, drinking, laughing together as Martino let his eyes travel over the room for a moment. He hadn’t really been paying much attention—too focused on finding Gio again so at least he’d have someone to talk to.

There was someone to talk to now as Nico smiled at him and his chest seemed to swell, as though filling up with a balloon of happiness. 

“Did you come by yourself?” Martino asked when no one seemed to appear to claim Nico as their own.

“I came with a friend. Well, ex.” He shrugged, tilting his head to the side. “She’s probably found some poor guy to dance with.”

Martino nodded. So Nico’s ex was a girl? He hadn’t expected that, but somehow, he didn’t think it mattered as Nico watched him, gaze warm.

“Are you all alone?”

“My friend made me come,” Martino said, glancing out at the dance floor, but he couldn’t spot Gio anywhere. “He’s trying to get back together with his ex, but he won’t just talk to her.”

“Looks like they’ve both abandoned us,” Nico said, not sounding too disappointed as he smiled at Martino, grabbing the beer the bartender handed over. “How should we repay them?”

Pausing, Martino bit his lip. Gio’s advice of making out in the bathroom surfaced in his mind, but he shook it away. Not that he wouldn’t have _liked_ making out with Nico, had thought about it once or twice since Nico had first opened his door and called him cute.

“We could ditch them,” he said finally, and Nico’s smile widened.

“I know a place just around the corner.”

Martino didn’t know why he paused—he didn’t need to. He was going to do whatever Nico wanted. Nodding his head, he grinned as Nico jerked his head toward the door.

“Let’s go,” he said, and Martino left his drink on the counter and followed Nico out of the club.

*

“The place you know is your apartment?” Martino asked as he followed Nico down the hall, but he wasn’t complaining as Nico fumbled for his keys and Martino let his gaze linger a beat too long as Nico bent over to pick them up.

“It’s quiet,” Nico said as he unlocked the door and Martino stepped in behind him. “And it has free beer.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Martino agreed, glancing around. The usual furniture was all covered tonight with white cloths, paint cans piled on the floor by the window. “Painting?”

“I was going to do it tomorrow,” Nico said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the kitchen table. “Since _someone_ said my apartment was ugly.”

“I didn’t say that,” Martino argued, but he took off his jacket as well as Nico grinned at him and his stomach went all fluttery.

“Whatever you said, you were right.” Nico pulled the cloth off the couch so he could sit down. “It’s been way too long since anyone cared about this place. So I decided to paint.”

“You didn’t bring me here so I could paint your apartment, did you?” Martino asked skeptically, hands on his hips as Nico raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” he said easily. “Though, if you wanted to help… I wouldn’t say no.” He pushed himself up from the couch, stepping over to Martino, and Martino felt a wave of nerves. “I could order food, have someone deliver to you for a change, put on some good music. It could be fun.”

Normally, painting an apartment would not have sounded like anything Martino would want to do, but coming out of Nico’s mouth, his eyes big, his smile wide, fuck if he would say no.

“I’m not dressed for painting,” was all he could say finally, and Nico plucked at them hem of his button-down gently, thoughtfully. 

“You’re not exactly dressed for a party either. I’ll lend you a shirt.”

Martino just smiled as Nico held on to the hem, running a thumb over the seam. “Is this your idea of a wild Friday night?”

Glancing up, Nico let go of the fabric finally, and Martino half-wished he hadn’t. “Parties can be fun, but sometimes, I’d rather just spend time with someone.”

Swallowing, Martino bit back his smile, the way his heart thudded against his ribcage, all fluttery and excited.

“So what do you say?” Nico said after a minute, watching Martino as they stood in the dim living room, shadows from the lamps crawling up the walls. “Want to help a guy out?”

Martino wanted to do a lot more than that, but for now, he just nodded.

“Okay. But if we order pizza, there better not be any pineapple on it.”

Nico just grinned as he nodded. “Promise.”

*

“This is your favorite music?” Martino asked, skeptical as Nico did a little shoulder wiggle to the beat of the rap music playing through the speakers, and he bit back his smile.

“What?” Nico asked, tossing a roll of tape at Martino as he finished taping off the window trim. “You thought I’d be into weird indie stuff?”

Martino shrugged, setting the tape aside and watching Nico bend over to pry open the cans of paint, tugging at the shirt Nico had lent him—a touch too small and it rode up every time he lifted his arms. If he was a little more discerning, he might have thought that Nico had chosen it on purpose.

“I haven’t really thought about your music tastes,” he admitted, and Nico glanced over his shoulder at him.

“And what have you thought about?”

Martino didn’t know what to say, and Nico laughed. He didn’t force Martino to answer, pouring out the paint into trays. 

Martino had thought several things about Nico since they’d met, but most of them related to what it would feel like to kiss him, how someone that pretty could be a music nerd, could want to hang out with him.

“Here,” Nico said, stepping up to Martino and pressing a brush in his hand. “You start with the edges and I’ll come behind with the roller. It’ll go faster that way.”

Nico was closer than he needed to be, his fingers grazing against Martino’s as he released the brush handle, the edge of his mouth curling up into a smile. Deep in his chest, Martino’s heart thudded loudly, somehow nervous being this close to Nico.

“It’s been a long time since I painted anything,” Martino admitted, voice low, and Nico nodded slowly. 

“It’s pretty hard to screw up,” he said gently, meeting Martino’s gaze, and Martino stared back.

Martino had been with enough guys that he could read the signs. Or at least, he thought he could. Gio might beg to differ. But he was pretty sure Nico hadn’t invited him over just to paint a room.

Martino never made the first move, though, not until he was absolutely sure, and as the moment stretched, he wasn’t sure.

The door buzzer broke the moment, and Martino took a breath as Nico stepped back.

“That must be the food,” he said. “Would you mind getting it? I’ll find some plates.”

Shaking himself, Martino forced his feet to turn and head for the front door. Had he been expecting Nico to just kiss him? Surrounded by paint and brushes and drop cloths?

Gathering himself, he pulled open the door to the delivery guy, freezing as he caught sight of Elia, whose eyebrows went up immediately.

“You’re not Niccolò,” he said, sounding amused as Martino blinked, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.

“But you are a dick,” Martino replied, and Elia ignored him, craning over his shoulder as if trying to get a glance of the apartment, of Nico.

“So who’s Niccolò?” Elia asked curiously, letting Martino take the pizza box from his hands, as if that might get him to leave faster. He didn’t need Elia and Nico meeting. “And why are you at his apartment so late? And why…” He paused, a smirk growing on his face. “That’s not your shirt.”

Glancing down, Martino tugged at the faded tee-shirt, realizing what it must have looked like.

“I’m proud of you Marti,” he said, and Martino rolled his eyes, shoving Elia from the doorway.

“It’s not what you think. Just go, okay?”

Elia laughed as Martino gave him another shove. “Don’t worry, _zi_. I won’t ruin the mood. Enjoy your pizza.”

Martino could hear Elia’s cackle even as he shut the door behind him and he grimaced. Now everyone was going to know about Nico, even though there was nothing to know.

“Got it?” Nico asked, poking his head out from the kitchen with a pair of plates. “I’m starving.”

“I got it,” Martino replied simply, holding up the box, and Nico grinned.

“So what do you think?” Nico asked as they settled on the couch. “Should I give the delivery guy five stars?”

Martino wasn’t sure Elia deserved it considering he was probably group texting Gio and Luca right now to tell them about this. As Nico took a bite of pizza, though, he shrugged. 

“If you want.”

Nico just laughed, turning to face Martino across the couch. “So, tell me, who’s your favorite musician? Since you seem so surprised by mine?”

“Not surprised. Just unexpected,” Martino admitted, and he couldn’t help smiling as Nico nodded.

“Alright, so what unexpected things are you into?” he asked instead, and Martino shrugged.

“I’m not that unexpected.”

“That’s not true,” Nico said, as if he knew. “I bet you’re full of surprises.”

Martino didn’t argue, but he also didn’t agree, grabbing another slice of pizza and leaning back against the couch as soft lamplight washed over them and music filled the background, and he smiled to himself as Nico went on eating and didn’t press for an answer.

*

It was harder than Martino remembered as he wiped the sweat off his brow and stepped back to take in the wall, transformed from dull brown to soft, welcoming green. The paint was still patchy, needing another coat, but for the moment, Martino was content to take a break.

It certainly hadn’t been the evening he’d imagined when he’d left with Gio for the party. The party was probably long over, and he hadn’t checked his phone to see if Gio had texted to see where he was. If he was right about Elia, Gio wouldn’t text.

“We’ve got to let it dry,” Nico said as he dropped his roller in the tray, shoving curls from his face as he glanced at Martino. “But I think it looks pretty good all things considered.”

Nodding, Martino left his roller with Nico’s, glancing up to find Nico watching him.

“What?” he asked when Nico didn’t say anything, smiling slightly.

“You’ve got some paint splatter,” he said, gesturing vaguely at Martino’s face.

Martino wasn’t all that surprised considering how many drips now covered the borrowed shirt. Nico’s clothes were relatively clean, though Martino didn’t know how.

“Shit,” he said instead, reaching up, but Nico got there first, thumb brushing over his forehead, and Martino couldn’t help staring at Nico, so close, eyes a deep brown, thick eyelashes, creases on his skin where he always smiled.

Some song was playing from the speakers, distant and far away as they stood there, but Martino couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything but the rushing in his ears as Nico’s eyes dropped to his mouth, fingers sliding down his cheek, an inhale of breath, lips parted as Nico leaned in and closed what little distance remained.

It wasn’t making out in the bathroom—it was better. It was Nico’s hands coming up to his neck as they kissed, a gentle tilt of heads so their lips fit together, following each other’s mouths, Martino’s stomach dancing excitedly.

“You’ve still got some paint,” Nico breathed when he finally pulled back, and Martino smiled, swallowing down his heart thudding in his throat.

“Leave it,” he replied, leaning into Nico, foreheads pressed together, and he could barely see Nico’s grin this close, the whole room blurring as Nico kissed him again and Martino thought he was so fucking glad Nico couldn’t cook.

*

No one had said anything, which was more suspicious than anything, Martino thought as they hung around the fountain. Gio was checking his phone every five seconds and Elia and Luca were arguing about which version of FIFA was superior.

He was sure Elia had texted everyone about Nico, about Martino being at his place so late. They’d probably mocked him endlessly in a separate group chat. But no one was saying a thing as they stood there, wasting time between classes.

“Why do you keep checking your phone?” Martino asked Gio finally, and Gio glanced up.

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” Martino scoffed, watching Gio sigh and tuck it away.

“Eva and me… kinda hooked up the other night. And now I’m not sure what it was supposed to be.”

“Are you getting back together?”

Gio shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

Gio didn’t need to explain the complexities of his and Eva’s relationship to Martino. They’d all been through the ups and downs of high school together.

“You know what’s not complicated?” Elia butted in, leaning around Luca to flash a knowing grin at Martino. “Late night booty calls.”

Rolling his eyes, Martino should have seen this coming. “It was not a booty call.”

From the lack of reactions from the other guys, Martino knew he was right about Elia telling them all.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” Elia went on, and Gio shot Martino a small smile. “It’s about time you hooked up with someone.”

“We didn’t hook up,” Martino said, although it was only partially a lie. They hadn’t gone any further than kissing, Nico pressing Martino into the old couch, body heavy and warm, lips soft and inviting, a laugh on his breath whenever Martino had to pause for air, grasp at his curls to re-ground himself, remind himself this was really happening.

He hadn’t left until his lips were sore, his mind fuzzy, too happy to remember how he got home, only remembering the way Nico had smiled at him, kissed him one last time before he forced himself out of the door.

Okay, so maybe they’d hooked up, whatever that meant. But it was more than that.

“Then what were you doing at his apartment so late, wearing his clothes?” Elia asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Martino shoved his shoulder.

“Helping him paint.”

“Paint?” Luca repeated, confused. “Is that, like, gay code?”

“No.” Martino rolled his eyes. 

“Well, whatever you were doing, I hope you had fun,” Elia said, and Martino wanted to groan. This was why he didn’t tell them about stuff like this.

Martino couldn’t help smiling to himself, though, as he thought back to how Nico had kissed him goodbye, promised to text, smiled that soft, warm smile of his as he rearranged Martino’s hair before letting him go. It was definitely more than a hook-up.

“I did,” he admitted finally, barely audible, and Gio and Elia grinned in reply.

“So when do we get to meet him?” Gio asked, and Martino scoffed.

“Never.”

Amidst the guys’ indignant cries, Martino just laughed to himself. He was going to keep Nico to himself for a little while longer.

*

“You know there are less complicated ways to get me to your apartment,” Martino said as Nico handed him a beer and flopped down next to him on the couch, close enough that their knees pressed together.

“But this way, I get you and food,” Nico said as though it was the best idea in the world. Martino couldn’t really argue when Nico had made sure to order him lunch too. “And you make a little money too.”

“At what point does you tipping me become weird?” Martino asked, and Nico shrugged as though he didn’t really care. Martino didn’t really care either.

“After the third date?”

Laughing, Martino shook his head, digging his chopsticks into the chicken on his plate. Did that mean this was a date? Martino wasn’t great at real dates, whatever those were. Dinners and lunches and holding hands in movie theaters. He hadn’t had too many of those.

Nico set his plate aside, reaching for his beer instead. “The music department is having a kind of showcase next week,” he said slowly, glancing at Martino. “I’m going to be playing a piece. If you’re interested.”

Martino paused, watching Nico take a swig of his beer, as though trying to be more casual than he was. “Are you inviting me?”

Nico smiled slowly. “I guess so.” He bit his lip, almost as if he was nervous, and Martino couldn’t help smiling.

“Yeah, I could go,” he said, setting his own plate aside as Nico leaned forward and pressed an easy kiss to his lips.

“It’s not going to be that interesting,” Nico said, and Martino shook his head.

“Be quiet,” he only replied, pulling Nico back to his mouth.

Nico didn’t try to talk again, pushing Martino back into the couch, smiling against his lips as Martino’s hands came up to his waist. Martino let himself be weighted down by Nico, following the slide of his tongue, the softness of his lips as they kissed. His whole body was warm with Nico’s hands sliding down his chest, heart thudding against his ribcage as his hands slid lower, coming to rest on his upper thighs.

Nico’s kisses turned more insistent, harder, hotter, and Martino wasn’t going to stop him. Instead, he reached for Nico’s neck, guiding his mouth down his neck, exhaling at the open-mouthed kisses he pressed to his skin, tongue sliding down his throat.

His face was flushed when Nico’s hands pressed to his hips, blood rushing away from his brain, dizzy with kisses, pulling Nico closer.

Martino groaned, disappointed, when the door buzzer rang and Nico paused, pulling away to look at the door.

“Hold that thought,” he said when the door buzzed again, and Martino had to sigh as Nico climbed off him and crossed the living room.

“Colino,” came a feminine voice, and Martino twisted around, smoothing down his shirt, gathering his thoughts back as he sawe a girl in the doorway. It was the same girl from all those weeks ago, the one who’d barely acknowledged him. “I think I left my chem book here.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s in my room,” Nico said, letting the girl inside, and Martino wasn’t sure what to do as she caught sight of him, brown eyes sliding down him where he sat on the couch. “Martino, this is Maddalena. Maddie, Marti.”

“Why is the book in your room?” Maddalena asked without taking her eyes off Martino, and he wished she would. He felt like he was under a microscope, especially as he reached up to smooth down his messy hair.

“I couldn’t sleep the other day,” Nico replied, heading for a hallway on the opposite side of the apartment. “Thought it might help.”

Maddalena merely rolled her eyes as he disappeared, gaze still on Martino.

“How do you know Niccolò?”

“We met when he ordered food,” Martino admitted, sliding his feet to the floor. “I just delivered it.”

Maddalena’s eyebrows went up, as though she’d realized something. “Huh,” she said gently. “It worked.”

“What worked?” Martino wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

She smiled slightly, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder. “I bet he wrote ‘send me a cute guy’ in the notes, didn’t he? He’s been doing it for weeks. I told him it’s weird and that wasn’t the way to get a date, but… I guess I was wrong.”

Martino didn’t know what to say as he sat there. What did that even mean?

Did that mean Nico had just been hoping someone might come along who he deemed cute enough to hit on? Did that mean he hadn’t remembered Martino from before? Martino had just come along at the right time? Fallen for Niccolò’s charming smile, his easy manner, how everything had seemed so easy? Had he just been convenient?

“Got it.” Nico returned with a heavy-looking book, handing it over to Maddalena. “Next time, leave the bio-chem book. Even better for falling asleep.”

Maddalena rolled her eyes. “I don’t think sleep will be a problem anymore,” she said, glancing at Martino and then Nico. “I’ll see you later.”

As she left, Nico sunk back onto the couch, flashing Martino a smile.

“So you met my ex,” he said. “Please tell me she didn’t scare you off.”

Martino frowned, thinking of what she’d said, but he shook his head. “No, no,” he muttered instead, and Nico leaned in to kiss him.

“Good. ‘Cause there are a lot more things I want to do with you than just eat,” he said, and Martino didn’t reply as Nico kissed him again, even as Maddalena’s words echoed in his brain, and he swallowed down the doubts surfacing in the back of his mind.

*

Martino ignored the chime of his phone in his pocket. The third one in five minutes. He knew who it was and he knew why he wasn’t answering, though his heart pounded every time the chime went off again.

“Bro, aren’t you gonna check that?” Gio asked as they crossed campus, killing time between classes. It was a nice fall day, a light breeze rustling the leaves of the trees they passed underneath, a slight chill in the air.

“No,” Martino answered, reaching in his pocket to silence the phone. “I know who it is.”

Gio didn’t ask who it was, but he did shoot Martino a concerned look, one Martino was all-too familiar with by now.

Martino wasn’t answering Niccolò not because Maddalena’s words kept swirling in the back of his mind—that Martino had just been luck of the draw on Nico’s part, that he might have hit on any delivery guy and Martino was just the idiot who happened to find it charming instead of creepy.

He wasn’t answering because he didn’t know what he was supposed to think.

After all, Nico was still charming and funny and adorable despite the fact that he apparently hit on every hot delivery guy who stopped by his door. The thought made Martino’s stomach curl and he sighed as leaf whipped past his face and he flinched.

“How are things going with Eva?” he asked when Gio just kept giving him that look, hoping to distract him.

Gio jerked his shoulder undecidedly. “I don’t know. We shouldn’t have hooked up. It just made things more confusing.”

Martino was surprised to hear Gio admit that, but he nodded along. “Maybe it was the jump start you needed.”

Gio made a noise that couldn’t really be agreement and they kept walking, not heading anywhere in particular, winding down the paths through campus, passing students hurrying to class or lounging around on the benches.

“Marti!”

A voice behind them caught Martino’s attention, and he froze as he turned to Nico hurrying towards him.

“Hey,” Nico greeted him when he reached Martino and Gio, a bright smile on his face, and Martino felt his stomach twist.

“Hi,” Martino said slowly, and he could feel Gio’s questioning look beside him.

“I sent you a couple texts,” Nico said after a second, biting his lip. “I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee?”

“I can’t,” Martino said, abrupt. “I have class in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” Nico said, glancing at Gio for a second, then back to Martino. “What about after? I know a great bar that has live music.”

Swallowing, Martino sighed. “I can’t today. I—I have to go help my mom with something.”

Nico nodded slowly, the smile on his face slipping away. “Oh. Well, I’m still gonna see you on Saturday, right? For the showcase? I’m playing an original piece.”

Martino didn’t know what to say as they stood there, the silence growing awkward as Gio frowned at him and Nico’s eyebrows creased, confused, worried.

“I, I don’t know,” Martino admitted. “I might have a thing I have to do. I kind of forgot about it.”

Nico seemed to understand as he nodded again and took a step back. “Alright. Well, if you can make it, you know where I’ll be.”

Martino frowned as he watched Nico leave. He felt bad, a twist of guilt somewhere deep inside, but it was for the best. He wanted to be with someone who wanted to be with him, not someone who just randomly asked for cute delivery guys on the off-chance one would be interested.

“What the fuck was that?” Gio asked, and Martino jerked as Gio smacked the back of his head.

“Ow! What?”

Gio gestured after Nico obviously. “That guy just asked you out three times and you turned him down. This doesn’t have to do with that Nico guy?”

“That _was_ Nico,” Martino muttered, though he was sure he shouldn’t have told Gio that as Gio stared instead.

“Are you kidding me? I thought you liked this guy. Why would you do that?”

“It’s complicated,” Martino said, and Gio scoffed.

“How is it complicated? I’m not even gay, but God, that guy is good-looking. What could possibly be wrong with him?”

It wasn’t really something Martino wanted to get into, to have to explain that he was just a coincidence with Nico. But he also knew that Gio wouldn’t let him get away with not explaining, at least not for long.

Huffing, he turned to Gio. “Remember that delivery that asked for the cute guy? That was Nico. Apparently he’s been writing that in the notes for weeks, hoping to get a date or something. I was just stupid enough to believe he actually meant me. It wasn’t genuine at all.”

For a second, Gio frowned, glancing after where Nico had disappeared. “What makes you think it wasn’t genuine? He seemed to want to spend time with you.”

“Because it could have been anyone,” Martino said, scowling. “It could have been Elia who’d done the delivery and he might have randomly decided he liked Nico and it wouldn’t have been me at all.”

“But it was you,” Gio said slowly, as if he didn’t see the problem. “You did the delivery, _you_ met Nico, and you liked each other. What does it matter that it could have been someone else?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” Martino muttered, shaking his head.

“Come on,” Gio said, grabbing his shoulder. “Marti. Tell me.”

“I just want to be with someone who wants me,” he said, lamely, sighing. “Not someone who’s relying on luck and chance to maybe get a cute guy to deliver his food.”

Gio paused. “Even if that’s what he was doing, couples have met in far worse ways. If you like him, it doesn’t matter how you met. If it was luck or if he only wanted you from the beginning. The important thing is that you did meet and you like him, right?”

Martino couldn’t say no, not as he thought of Nico smiling at him, the butterflies in his stomach every time they kissed, the way Nico liked to hold his face, thumbs stroking down his cheeks, noses pressed together as they whispered things to each other in the silent apartment.

As he frowned, Gio smiled, giving him a firm shake.

“So stop getting all hung up on how it happened. He’s not still writing that in the notes, is he?”

“No,” Martino admitted.

“So then he must have gotten who he wanted. And that was you.”

Martino still frowned as Gio let go of his shoulder and turned down the path. He hated that Gio could be right, and he hated that maybe he’d been wrong.

*

“Is this seat taken?”

Martino looked up from his textbooks, his coffee going cold as he sat at a table in the corner, away from the distractions of the window, the ringing door every time someone came in or left. 

Eva smiled at him as Martino blinked away the surprise. 

“Gio’s not working today,” he said, glancing at the counter, and Eva nodded. 

“I know. I only come here when he’s not.” She took the chair across from Martino without waiting for his invitation. “Studying?”

“Yeah, I have an exam tomorrow,” he muttered, closing his books with a sigh. He wasn’t really studying. He’d spent most of the last half hour staring at his books, words blurring as his mind drifted to Niccolò and the way his smile had fallen when Martino very awkwardly blew him off the other day. 

Eva tossed her long hair over her shoulder and sighed too. It wasn’t as if they’d stopped being friends after she and Gio had broken up, but they definitely weren’t friends like they used to be. 

“Why do you only come when Gio’s not here?” he asked, watching her mouth twitch at the question.

“Because I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, setting her elbows on the table. “I don’t know how to explain how I feel.”

Martino knew that feeling all too well. 

“How do you feel?”

“I knew you were going to ask that.” She frowned at him, plucking absently at the pages of his textbook. “I care about him, a lot, but it’s not as simple as just getting back together.”

“Why not?”

“Because we broke up for a reason. What’s the point if we’re just going to make the same mistakes again?” She sighed, sliding her hands off the table, watching Martino as though he might have some magical answer to fix all her problems. 

He wished he did. He wished he knew how to make Gio and Eva work out. He wished he knew what to do about Nico, if he should answer one of the many texts Nico had sent, stop worrying about the how and think about what it could be instead. 

“How do you know you’ll make the same mistakes?” he asked finally. “You’re older now. You know more. Maybe this time it could work.”

“Or maybe this time I’ll lose him forever.” She groaned as she sat back in her chair. “Marti, you are so lucky you don’t have exes like Gio. Do you even think about your exes?”

Pausing, Martino gazed down at his textbook. Most of his exes had barely been significant enough for him to feel bad when it was over. There hadn’t been even one that he’d felt like it might last. There had been butterflies and excitement, but he hadn’t wanted it to go on forever. 

Not like with Nico. 

He’d fucked it up, hadn’t he? He’d blown him off because of a stupid comment, because Martino needed everything to be _special_ or else it wasn’t real. 

“No,” he said finally as Eva waited for an answer. He didn’t think about them. But he was thinking about Nico. 

Eva merely sighed, frowning at the table between them, and Martino couldn’t help but agree.

*

Martino had never actually been in the concert hall on campus, and he gazed up at the tall, rounded ceiling as he stepped down the aisle way, passing by rows of chairs, people dotted here and there as they waited for the show add to begin. 

He didn’t sit in the front row, careful to sit a few rows up. After all, he wasn’t even sure what he’d came here to say. 

He hadn’t told the guys, not even Gio who might have offered to come with him. If this went badly, if Martino had already screwed things up with Nico, he didn’t need witnesses. 

Sinking into his seat, Martino twisted the program in his fingers, unnecessarily nervous considering Nico wouldn’t even know he was there. That thought made his stomach twist again. Nico probably thought he wasn’t coming since he hadn’t bothered to text him back in three days. Nico had stopped texting altogether. 

From backstage, he could hear all sorts of instruments warming up, tuning. People behind him were whispering something inaudible as blood pounded in Martino’s ears. 

What if he was too late to apologize? What if Nico had already moved on to some new cuter delivery guy?

His program tore as he twisted it, forcing himself to put it down. Worrying wouldn’t do anyone any good. 

Instead, he focused on the man stepping out on stage, giving an introduction, explaining something about gifted students that Martino wasn’t really listening to. 

The first performer was a flutist, a small blond-haired girl who seemed to shake with nerves. But when she played, it seemed to all go away, and Martino actually felt a bit calmer as she left the stage. 

A violinist, a cellist, and an opera singer all came and went before Martino sat up at Nico’s name being announced. 

The piano was rolled out on stage and Martino actually scooted forward in his chair to watch Nico cross the stage, unusually handsome in his black slacks and crisp white shirt. As he sat down on the bench, he flexed his fingers over the keys and even from his distance in the audience, Martino could see the breath he took before lowering his hands. 

Martino didn’t know much about music, about technique or key changes or complicated structures. But he knew that Nico was absolutely breathtaking as he played. 

A small smile seemed to spread over Nico’s mouth as the music filled the room, soft and warm and a little sad as Martino stared, the sound washing over him like a comforting blanket and a warm cup of tea. 

His head was bowed to the keys, and Martino watched the way his hair fell over his eyes, the curve to his back, how his fingers glided over the keys like water on the shoreline. 

Martino’s chest swelled with the music, with the way it built up to a crescendo that fell away almost instantly, leaving the room ringing in silence before Nico played the last few notes and everything seemed to fall away.

Applause broke Martino out of his trance, and Nico rose from the bench to take his bow. But the smile was gone now and he turned from the stage before Martino could try to catch his eye. 

Pushing himself up, Martino struggled down the row, not really sure how he was going to find Nico. He didn’t even know where backstage was technically, but he burst into the lobby anyway, the sounds of the next performer dying away as the doors swung shut behind him. 

There were other doors, leading off the lobby, and Martino hesitates a second as he reached for one. What if Nico was already gone? Out some back door and Martino had no chance of finding him?

Shaking away the doubt, Martino reached for the handle, only to jump back as it sprang open. 

There was Nico, a backpack slung over one shoulder, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, tails untucked from his pants, and he blinked in surprise as he caught sight of Martino. 

“Marti,” he said, sounding confused. “I thought you had a thing.”

Martino grimaced at the terrible excuse, not even an excuse, just a bald-faced lie, he’d told. 

“I didn’t,” he said, lamely, watching Nico’s eyebrows furrow. 

“I don’t get it,” Nico said finally, shifting uncomfortably. “I thought things were going pretty well but then you just ghosted me. Did I do something?”

Hesitating, Martino wasn’t even sure he should say it. It would sound stupid and he would sound like an idiot. 

“How often did you ask for the cute delivery guy in the notes?”

Nico looked even more confused now as they stood by the door. The lobby was empty behind them, and Martino couldn’t hear any of the performance going on. He could only hear his own heartbeat. 

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “A few times.”

“Madelena said you’d been doing it for a month.”

“Maddie said,” Nico repeated slowly. “What else did she say?”

Martino shrugged. “Nothing. Just that you were trying to get a date. And that’s okay. I just kinda thought that…” He sighed, feeling stupider by the second that he’d ever assumed Nico had meant him specifically, that it was so important, that he couldn’t just enjoy meeting a cute guy no matter how it happened. “I thought maybe you meant me and I was disappointed, I guess, that you didn’t.”

For a second, Nico didn’t reply, dropping his hand from the backpack strap and licking his lips. 

“I had been putting that in the notes for a while,” he said, and Martino forced himself to nod. “Hoping I would run into a cute boy who would smile at my stupid jokes and not mind eating sushi off a coffee table. And Maddie knew. But what she didn’t know is that I was hoping it would be you.”

Looking up, Martino frowned, unsure what exactly that meant. 

Nico’s mouth twitched into a smile. “That time you delivered the pizza, the pineapple pizza which I know you think goes against all things Italian, I didn’t even get to talk to you, but I knew I wanted to.”

Martino felt himself smile before he could process it, Nico’s words, the feeling of happiness flooding his veins. 

“You did want it to be me.” 

So he’d freaked out over nothing. Well, not nothing. Gio would have said he’d learned a valuable lesson, but Gio wasn’t here right now. Right now it was just him and Nico in an empty lobby, with just a few feet of space between them. 

Nico’s smile grew as he nodded, stepping over to Martino. “I said send me the cute one, and they sent me the cutest one there is.”

Martino couldn’t help laughing even as Nico reached for his arm, skin tingling under his fingers, foreheads close together, and Martino couldn’t help leaning in to close the space between them, drinking in Nico’s soft, warm lips pressed to his. 

“You want to go get gelato? There’s a place down the street,” Nico said when Martino smiled and broke away. 

“Let’s go to your place. We can always get it delivered.”

Nico’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. “I like the way you think.”

Stepping away, reluctant already to leave the warm of Nico’s touch on his arm, Martino felt far less stupid this time as they left the concert hall and headed for Nico’s place. They’d have everything they needed right there. 

*

**Epilogue**

“Come on, Marti,” Nico wheedled, eyes wide, a mischievous curl to his smile as Martino shook his head.

“The last party you thought was going to be great was all weird music and guys trying to crawl up walls,” he said, and Nico rolled his eyes as though Martino was exaggerating.

“Sounds like your kind of party,” Elia said from across the table, ignoring Martino’s scowl while Luca seemed confused.

“Why were people crawling on walls?”

Martino didn’t answer as he shut his textbook. Whatever semblance of studying was supposed to have taken place, it had been swept away by Nico’s suggestion of a party this weekend. Martino supposed he should have known he wouldn’t get any studying done with Elia, Luca, and Nico at the bar with him.

He didn’t glance over as Nico slid a casual arm over his shoulders. They were squished at a table in the corner, really only meant for two people. He didn’t mind that Nico was so close, shoved in with Luca and Elia on either side, close enough that he could do this, touch him so easily as if there was no other choice.

“Parties are good excuses to get out, you know,” Nico said, fingers playing with Martino’s hair, gentle, soft, and Martino couldn’t help smiling.

“I’d rather stay in.”

Nico grinned this time while Elia rolled his eyes.

“You guys are so gross,” he said and Martino ignored him this time.

“How come I never meet anyone on deliveries?” Luca asked, sighing as he set his elbow on the table, head in his hand. “Should I start writing, ‘send the hot girl’?”

“No,” Martino said firmly.

“Definitely not, Luchi,” Elia added. “Those two were just some weird chance of fate.”

Martino rolled his eyes, leaning into Nico, shoulders pressed together. “I don’t believe in fate.”

“Bullshit,” Nico murmured in his ear, and Martino glanced at him, biting back his smile.

“Is that Eva?” Luca asked, interrupting Martino’s thought that he really only wanted to kiss Nico right now. But then, that seemed to always be his only thought when Nico was around. “What’s she doing?” 

Eva didn’t even glance their way as she headed for the bar where Gio was working behind the counter. For a full minute, no one at the table said anything, watching Eva and Gio talking, the smiles between them, and Martino frowned as she left another minute later, pausing only to meet Martino’s gaze and flash a barely there smile.

Turning back to the table, Elia’s eyebrows were in his hairline. “That was weird.”

“Gio!” Luca called, waving as though Gio didn’t know they were over there. “Gio!”

“What the hell was that?” Elia asked when Gio made it over, looking dazed as he stared at the door.

“She wants to talk,” he said, sounding surprised.

“Like a good talk or a bad talk?”

Gio paused, and Martino felt Nico’s hand fall to his knee. “I think good.”

Martino turned to find Nico watching him as Gio stood there lost in thought.

“What?”

Nico shook his head. “It’s amazing what talking can do.”

Rolling his eyes, Martino pulled Nico to him, not caring that they were in public, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Shut up,” was all he said as Nico grinned at him and in the background, Elia and Luca offered all sorts of terrible advice to Gio about what to do.

*

FIN.


End file.
